


An Island in the Moon

by GrilledTandooriSmoke



Series: The Ghost of Abel [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, V is Not Part of Vergil, fortuna 1 and fortuna 2 electric boogaloo, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25283026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrilledTandooriSmoke/pseuds/GrilledTandooriSmoke
Summary: "In the Moon is a certain Island near by a mighty continent [...] the people are so much alike, & their language so much the same, that you would think you was among your friends."In a desperate bid to defeat Urizen, V travels to Fortuna to meet Nero, the young man from Vergil's memories.
Relationships: Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry) (background), Nero & V (Devil May Cry)
Series: The Ghost of Abel [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658035
Comments: 15
Kudos: 33





	An Island in the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> The citation in the summary is genuinely like that. At the time, "you was" probably would have been grammatically correct! An Island in the Moon was written around 1784-85, so while the Gutenberg printing press would have helped solidify written language in Europe and the West from the 15th century and onward, the English language would have been more flexible than today since grammar was allowed to be wonky like that. Wish that was something we could all still get away with...
> 
> There's some VoV rehashing in this but I promise it's the last of it > _ <

Seeing Fortuna from a bird's-eye view in the evening is distinctly different from the daylit cobblestone streets in Vergil's memories. There's a certain amount of nostalgia that comes along with it, like he's weaving through innocuous daydreams against the reality he faces. A safe haven of memories not completely tainted with nightmares.

Fortuna's structures are hauntingly familiar. From its gothic and medieval-esque architecture, to the tall spires on ancient buildings. Fortuna's lights glitter, not too dissimilar from stars.

This was once Sparda's chosen residence. It's almost hard to imagine but V supposes Vergil can be trusted about this. The early mornings and late nights spent in libraries and record storage rooms with his nose pressed against the pages of old tomes couldn't have amounted to nothing.

His eyes wander from building to building. For as familiar as they seem, there are subtle differences. One building is missing, another might be smaller than he recalls. It's uncanny. He could easily just write it off as the city changing over time but it can't be the only factor at play. Something must have happened since Vergil was last here. Vergil doesn't stir. There's no way to know.

~~_It's her house. Her house is missing. But who is she?_ ~~

Unfortunately, V can’t dwell on it for long. He can't afford to waste any more time.

So against the judgement of his pilot, he jumps out of the helicopter.

Griffon takes shape under his grip and they land somewhere on a roof in the middle of town square.

There are multiple demonic presences on the island, further out though they are. They're smaller, not right. He parses through each of them until only one remains. It’s faint, but distinct; tinged with the sort of energy only a blood descendant of Sparda can have.

He has Griffon take him down to ground level and orients himself on that energy, having it act as a beacon for him. He takes off, and Shadow, sensing his urgency, ripples under his feet and gets him moving faster.

"Are you really sure about this, V?" Griffon asks, soaring beside him, "If you really think Dante can’t win then what chance does the kid have? It’s like throwing an Empusa at a Behemoth."

V raises a brow. "Then you admit we’re less than Empusas?" Griffon sputters. "He will be of more use than you or I. With his and Dante’s powers combined, we just might be able to make it."

Griffon’s words have some measure of truth to them. However, if Dante were to fail then the only hope he has left rests in Nero. No one else can possibly defeat Urizen.

The rest of the city is a blur and Shadow stops him in front of a quaint two-story house a few miles away from the center of town, quietly fading back into his tattoos. There's a tree with a tire swing in the front yard and a wooden fence surrounding the perimeter. How domestic. They also have a familiar garage door. Closed, he notes.

About to look around the back, V quickly hides himself behind the tree when he notices the garage door open. Tires tread against asphalt, an engine revving. A vehicle?

"Thank you for doing this, Nico," a soft voice reaches over the noise.

A southern drawl—Nico?—answers back, "Naw, don’t you worry your pretty little head about it. You’ve been bustin’ your a—uh butt for days. Get some proper rest for once, ya hear?"

"Right. Be good, alright kids?"

A chorus of young voices answers back. A family. Nero has a family.

The vehicle—a van—rolls past, and V has to angle himself against the tree so he isn't visible to either Nico or the other woman. It seems to work as not a few moments later, he hears the garage door shutter close. He peers around the trunk. No one. That woman must have entered the house.

He can't afford alerting her with her in there. But he needs Nero.

Regardless, V prowls around the house, noticing the windows by the side. Griffon pops out of his tattoos with a twirl, cocks his head towards them and keeps his voice low.

"Pretty sure this is called breaking and entering, V."

"We're picking up a person, not stealing from them."

"Kidnapping! Much better."

"I can live with that." He nods towards the window with the most demonic energy. Most being a generous term. The result of Nero being at rest maybe? "Go see if our," V pauses, looking for the right word, " _kidnappee_ is up there."

"Better hope he doesn't think we're actually robbing him," Griffon crows, landing on the edge of the windowsill, "might have to zap him otherwise!"

Griffon's head twists and turns in every few directions, muttering under his breath. He hooks a talon between the frames and cracks a wider opening with a satisfied "ah-ha" like he just solved a puzzle. His head peaks in and he nearly drags the curtain out with his horns when he turns to look back at V.

"He's sleeping but yeah, that's him."

"Then let's greet him properly, shall we?"

While Griffon hops back into his tattoos, V kicks off the wall and climbs through the window.

Settled against the edge of the wall and barely hidden behind the curtains, V takes out his book and observes the man in the bed across from him.

Now that he's present, there's no doubt in his mind Nero is connected to Sparda. The demonic energy flowing through the room leaks from Nero's form, not entirely honed but not necessarily uncontrolled either. Without his arm and the Yamato, he's at a disadvantage. But if he can just muster the rest of the energy he has out in the open, even without either, there's a fair chance he could win.

V's eyes briefly pass over Blake's distinct twining cursive when Nero suddenly stirs. The stillness and calm from just moments earlier disappear, quick breaths and tense panic taking their place. A nightmare, V recognizes.

Nero awakens with a sharp gasp, his energy swirling frantically with his hand gripping his bedsheets like they would disappear from around him otherwise. Slowly, he releases his grip and drags it down his face, mumbling under his breath.

"Kyrie?"

"Took you long enough to wake up," V hums, snapping his book closed.

Nero's head whips towards him and immediately scrambles, sitting up on his bed like a wild animal on its haunches. Quite the reaction time.

"Your body seems to be just fine as far as I can see," he notes with a satisfied smirk. He walks closer to the bed, his cane guiding his path. "The front door was closed. So I came in through the window."

Nero doesn't say a word, a defiant glare set on V. That's a familiar look. Family resemblance, is that it? He has half a mind to click his tongue, but he supposes he shouldn't be antagonizing the only other person he needs help from, doubly so given his relation to Dante.

"No need to be so on guard," he chides, tapping his cane against his shoulder. "If I intended any harm, I would've done so before you woke up."

He doesn't look any more assured than he did a second ago. Then again, V doesn't exactly need Nero to be comfortable to get him to do what he wants. He seats himself at the edge of the bed, the wood underneath creaking with his added weight.

"Call me V," he offers. "That's my name."

The conflict on Nero's face is painfully clear. He supposes it's understandable. Rather than worrying about what questions he must have, V is more concerned with coercing him to fight. From the way Nero's hand slightly reaches toward his right side, it might not be that difficult to convince him after all.

"Who are you?" he finally asks, breaking his silence.

"I know the demon that took your arm."

 _That_ gets Nero's attention if the way his head perks up is any indication.

"That demon absorbed the Yamato from your right arm, gaining incredible power," he explains, resting his arms across his legs. "Right now, Dante is heading towards him."

Nero grits his teeth, not giving an inch. "And why the hell do you know that?"

V pauses. "...This demon took something from me as well," he confesses, letting his shoulders slouch as he plays with his cane. "I've been trailing him since. Which is how I came to learn about you and your right arm. I also made a request to Dante, since defeating him on my own would be impossible. I intended to borrow Dante's power and take him down, but he far exceeded my expectations."

Belatedly, V realizes talking about this with another human has been more cathartic than anything he's done since waking up in that shed a few weeks ago. He shouldn't let himself get carried away.

"So come with me, Nero." he says, shoving the handle end of his cane in Nero's face. "Dante alone might be unable to win."

He yanks the cane out of V's hand and scoffs. "Unable to win? Dante?" his expression is smug, as if to challenge all that V just said. "Are you for real right now? You make a crappy comedian."

V heaves a sigh. He expected this to an extent. Devil hunters and underestimating threats go hand in hand too well. Seems that trait didn't skip Nero.

_'Would you like a shot?'_ he asks the rippling ink on his skin. 

_"Lemme at him!"_

Griffon darts out of his arm at top speed, talons reaching for Nero's shoulders. "Boy, you are slow in the head! The point is, he's real bad news so get preparing, you! Dumbass!" he squawks in between jabbing Nero with his beak.

"Huh!? A bird!? No, a demon!?" Nero makes a grab for Griffon's neck, shifting his weight a few times as needed to hold him in place. For all his trouble, Griffon gets one last peck in. "Ow! Stop pricking me already, idiot!"

Nero clamps down on Griffon's beak with his hand, feet poised at his familiar's neck. Griffon groans defeatedly. V covers a small laugh with a cough. As amusing as it is, he should really put it to an end.

"We have little time to spare," he emphasizes, impatience beginning to colour his tone. "You should come with me considering what might happen if you don't. Unless…" he pauses, turning to smirk at Nero, "you don't have the confidence to fight demons without that right arm of yours?"

"That's right, V!" Griffon cackles, having squirmed out of Nero's grip. "Too much of a load for the kid to bear! Well if he says he won't do it, nothing we can do about that. Let's tuck the kiddo back into bed and hurry back—" he yelps around the hand shutting his beak closed.

The corners of V's lips curl. Nero glares at him, jaw clenched. For a few seconds, nothing happens. Then he huffs, vaguely tossing Griffon in his direction and comes to a stand.

"Your pet chicken's annoying and doesn't know when to shut up."

"Call it an endearing character trait," he says over Griffon's groan.

"Yeah, an endearing pain in the ass," Nero mutters, slipping on a pair of pants.

"I can _hear_ you."

His voice comes out muffled from the tattered red sweater pulled over his head. "Good, I don't have to repeat myself."

He manages to lace up a pair of combat boots with some minor difficulty, then pulls a fingerless glove over his hand. The movements are practiced, like this isn't the first time he's had to limit himself to one hand. He's at least able to perform basic tasks, V thinks. There's some hope.

Nero pulls a blue leather coat off a rack and sweeps it over his shoulders, adjusting it accordingly. "My weapons are in the garage. Mind waiting?"

"We don't _have_ time—"

"Hurry up!" Griffon heckles. "And don't forget your hanky and toilet paper, kiddo!"

"Yeah, yeah, I gotcha."

Nero opens his door and steps through, closing it behind him. V supposes that's answer enough.

He jumps down from the window and walks back to the front of the house, eyeing the garage door. There's an uncomfortable irony somewhere in his stomach the longer he looks at it. He opts to lean against the fence around the property instead, back facing it.

Fortuna in general makes him uncomfortable. And it does it in such a vague way, he doesn't know whether to attribute it to Vergil or himself. Of course Vergil has memories here, but Nero looks around his age. Could he have been here before?

From above, the helicopter's blades spin rapidly. Remarkable how the pilot found them so quickly. Apparently a vague direction is enough to go on.

True to his word, Nero doesn't take long, the garage door rattling open with him ducking under. There's a large sword strapped to his back with what looks like an engine built into it. He looks up, noticing the helicopter.

"You're telling me that's our ride?" he asks, stepping over the fence to lean against it. "Talk about posh. Hey, don't get it too close to the house, it'll wake the others up," he says like V has any sway over how it lands. The only other person in the house is that woman anyways.

"I'm not exactly in a position to contact it," V replies. "You could always jump and tell the pilot yourself."

"Yeah, sure."

A blanket of silence covers them. It's awkward. Oppressive. Left waiting for their ride, there's nothing much to do besides think about their next steps. At least, that's what V would prefer to do. Instead, an ache in his chest makes itself known progressively as he thinks about his own relation to this damnable city and he knows it won't go away until he asks. He takes a quick glance at Nero. It's a long shot, but could he have known him?

He takes in a sharp breath, to which Nero looks his way almost expectantly. It's no good, V thinks shutting his mouth. He can't ask. He gives it one last push, and the words leave him before he has the chance to think better of himself.

"Something happened to this city," he says, rubbing his wrists. "The buildings are… different from what I've seen."

Nero snorts. "And here I thought you knew all about me!"

"I only learned about you recently."

He eyes him like he's weighing between believing him or not. "You've never heard of the Saviour Incident?"

V shakes his head. "I know the people here worship Sparda."

"Wor _shipped_ ," he half-heartedly corrects. "You have half the picture at least, even if it is a few years out of date. Guess I can't blame you," he shrugs, "Fortuna is pretty backwater."

He says it fondly which perplexes V. It's not something one would normally take pride in. His eyes take on a shine of reminiscence, and though he doesn't outwardly grin, his tone becomes just a little lighter.

"Long story short, the Order was a cult. Dante took it down and there was a ton of property damage. Five years later and a lotta buildings have been repurposed. Probably why it looks different."

Of course the Order was a cult. Demonic worship only goes so far before it dips into something more. And of course it took a son of Sparda to dismantle it. Even so, five years since and it doesn't account for the time Vergil was here last. He doesn't feel a clear connection to his own past but he can't discount the possibility he might have lived here before. It's just… hard to ask. So he doesn't, even though everything is pounding against his chest to say something.

"You should have mentioned Dante from the beginning."

"Yeah, that explains it all, doesn't it?" he chuckles. Nero nods towards V, his expression becoming much more casual. "So, what'd this bastard demon take from you?"

V hums, craning his head to see how close the helicopter is. "Defeat him and you might find out."

Nero's brows furrow, probably about to object, but the blades become too loud for conversation without resorting to yelling. Once the helicopter lands, V gestures to it with his hand, a smile curling his lips.

"After you."

Nero huffs, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "Yeah, whatever," he mutters, striding through the door to sit.

V follows, and besides the pilot calling him a "reckless bastard" for jumping without a parachute, nothing else keeps them from taking off.

And as they do, V gazes out the window, looking down at the house. If he sees the figure of an auburn haired woman running out, he doesn't bother telling Nero.

* * *

V enters the Qliphoth with a renewed sense of determination, regardless of the odds stacked against him.

He crashes out of the Qliphoth realizing his efforts were worthless and the odds really are _that_ bad.

This doesn't come without its own set of complications. With no one to fend off Urizen, the Qliphoth roots grow more bold. They begin by feeding on the closest humans; the ones fool enough to twiddle their thumbs outside a demonic tree without the means to protect themselves.

V runs a frustrated hand through his hair. That's unfair of him to think. The demonic isn't exactly common from what he gathers. They couldn't have known.

He's not the only one who's frustrated either.

Sitting shotgun with the pilot, Morrison chews at his cigar, the flame having long gone out. When he had first met Dante's broker, he had expected a no nonsense business man who didn't care for results as long as he got a cut. V can appreciate that assumption was woefully incorrect. Dante's defeat takes a toll on the man. He's frazzled but not frozen at least.

If Morrison is frazzled, then Nero is furious. His entire body is tense with a pent up rage. There's no outlet for it, physical or verbal, so he's been stewing for the entire duration of the ride back to Fortuna. With the combined loss of his own battle and Dante's, it's no wonder. Even more so considering Dante's parting words.

V doesn't know how to make things right with Nero. It's more than a matter of pride; it's a matter of helplessness. And the only way to overcome it is by becoming stronger. But that just isn't possible. Not right now.

As the helicopter settles on the grass in front of his house, Nero hops down. In an almost immediate response, the front door to the house opens, and that woman runs out calling his name. She throws herself into his chest, arms holding him close, and all of Nero's anger just seems to melt away.

Morrison reaches around the back to look at him. His eyes show tiredness. Grief? Mourning? "Ready to go, kid?"

"Not yet," V notes how Nero's lover(?) catalogues all his injuries. Nero barely looks sheepish in response, but the regret is loud in how he stands, shoulders and body slumped like there's a greater force pulling him down. "There's something I wish to tell him."

"Better make it quick then."

He approaches them languidly. For a second, a few feet from them, nothing happens. Then the woman, whose cheek is neatly laid in the crook of Nero's neck, notices him, and slowly removes herself from their embrace.

"Ah, uh, Kyrie," Nero stumbles over the brief silence, awkwardly gesturing towards him, "this is V."

The woman's—Kyrie's eyes alight with a sense of recognition. Her lips thin and her expression becomes more firm.

"You're the one who took Nero,"

V tilts his head. There's no hesitation in her voice, and well, there's no point in denying it.

"I am," he confirms.

She looks down at her feet, her shoulders squared, and they begin to shake.

Nero's hand hovers hesitatingly over her shoulder, "Kyrie—"

"I can't properly express to you," she says, her fists clenched at her side, "the pain and worry I've experienced in these past few hours. I understand this is Nero's job, I've never thought otherwise." she shakes her head then pins him with such an earnest look, it may as well stop him in place with the way it causes something heavy to swirl in his stomach. "But please just—he's been hurt so much already, at least _tell_ me, please."

V winces, shuffling awkwardly. Plagued with nightmares and terrors ever since he woke up but it's this woman's gaze that has him feeling just as, if not more terrible than anything he's been through. Nero must feel similarly if the way he hangs his head is any indication.

"...I apologize,"

"Please don't do it again." she adds, her tone somehow both soft and forceful at the same time.

"I will endeavour not to."

Kyrie looks him in the eye as though to search for something, then nods like his response was satisfying, if only barely meeting her expectations.

"...So," Nero says, "what're you still doing here? Thought you were gonna take off."

"The Qliphoth still stands." Nero bares his teeth at some perceived slight on his character, the defensiveness rolling off of him in droves. Kyrie tugs him back as V waves a hand. He hadn't meant it like that. "We have a month. You should use that time wisely. Heal your wounds. Get stronger."

"A month?"

"Yes," he drawls, "after that, the demon and human worlds will merge."

Kyrie covers her mouth with a gasp and her head whips to a wide-eyed Nero. Ah, that's right. V never fully explained the consequences to him. No matter. He knows now.

"I'll be heading back into the city to bide my time until then."

"What?" Nero's expression is incredulous. "You can't be serious. There's gonna be demons all over!"

There's a light in Nero's eyes. It's clear he wants to jump back into the fight. Whether it's from his losing streak or a wavering confidence, he holds back from actually saying so, and a sincere concern for V's wellbeing seems to take place instead. It's almost flattering, even if worrying about a stranger is useless. ~~So why is this heart ache so familiar?~~

"All the more reason to go, wouldn't you say? Besides," he adds, noticing Nero poised to interrupt, "someone should keep an eye on the situation. There are a few things I need to confirm for myself."

V expects more indignation, for Nero to argue his point further. If there's anything he's learned about him, it's that he inherited his father's stubbornness.

Nero curses underneath his breath. "Stay right there," he orders, pinning V with a glare.

He marches past them with heavy strides, disappearing somewhere into his house. V drums his fingers against his cane. He doesn't want to stay longer than he has to.

"This is serious, isn't it?" Kyrie softly murmurs.

V stares, wondering if he actually heard her. All things considered, he's surprised she would speak to him. "Indeed."

"You're going to be in danger if you go back, won't you?"

 _"A query and an answer are as different as a strait line and a crooked one."_ he quotes. She blinks. He shrugs in response. "I'll be fine. You don't have to pretend to worry about me."

She sucks in a breath, about to say something else when Nero, sans sword, stomps back out and shoves a small slip of paper in front of him. "Call every now and then, got it? Updates on the situation, new info, whatever."

He stares at the proffered slip for too long that Nero shakes it for emphasis.

V pinches the paper between his fingers, taking note of the messily scrawled numbers. He quietly and carefully folds the edges, then pockets it with a sense of finality, making sure to avoid their gazes. "I suppose with that, I'll take my leave."

He turns to do just so, hoping that by not facing them they can't see his touched expression. He bites his lip. If he doesn't go now, he's going to end up staying.

"Hey, V," Nero calls one last time, stopping him in his tracks. He doesn't turn. "Be careful."

"Stay safe," Kyrie echoes.

V opens his mouth. The only use it serves him is a simple shuddering breath. He still can't do it. He lifts his cane to offer a short wave instead.

It's only a month anyways.

**Author's Note:**

> In the Moon is a certain Island near by a mighty continent, which small island seems to have some affinity to England, &, what is more extraordinary, the people are so much alike, & their language so much the same, that you would think you was among your friends. 
> 
> In this Island dwells three Philosophers—Suction the Epicurean, Quid the Cynic, & Sipsop the Pythagorean. I call them by the names of those sects, tho' the sects are not ever mention'd there, as being quite out of date; however, the things still remain, and the vanities are the same. 
> 
> — An Island in the Moon by William Blake
> 
> Tag urself I'm Sipsop. 
> 
> In the summary citation, I took out the bits talking about England since I wanted to give it a fantastical sort of vibe, especially concerning Nero and Kyrie and how they're just. really friendly and kind people and I lov them vvv much. Blake however, intended for his story to be a satire. I think the funniest thing I've read about An Island in the Moon is that it's a story where people talk, but they don't communicate properly to understand each other. Which, uh, sounds familiar.
> 
> A few other An Island quotes I liked: 
> 
> _"Sir,"_ said the Antiquarian, _"according to my opinion the author is an errant blockhead."_
> 
>  _"If I have not presented you with every character in the piece, call me Ass."_ (After listing literally everyone's names)
> 
>  _"The trumpeter shit in his hat,"_ said the Epicurean.  
>  _"— & clapt it on his head," _said the Pythagorean.__
> 
>  _"Poo! Poo!"_ said Obtuse Angle. _"Don't be a fool."_
> 
> And my personal favourite: _"Lift up my Roman Petticoat and kiss my Roman Anus."_
> 
> What V quotes to Kyrie is also a line from An Island, said by the character Obtuse Angle. Before he says this, the other characters are basically talking about other philosophers like Voltaire and this man starts ranting about how philosophers and questions are useless. That's it. That's the context. 
> 
> Otherwise, thank you very much for reading!! Lemme know what you think and have a wonderful day!!


End file.
